Darkest (5 page)

“Only as far as you feel comfortable with. It’s enough that it’s inside you. Well done, love. Now, can you turn it on again?”

“What?”

His murmured words are warmed by that rich, sexy chuckle he’s so good at. “You heard, Eva. Turn the vibrator on and let it sizzle in your tight little arse. You’ll love it, I promise.”

I do as he tells me, and gasp with pleasure. Again, he’s so right. God, what an exquisite sensation. I lie still, my legs spread wide, the vibrator pulsing sensuously inside my slick arse. Without waiting for further instructions I reach down and stroke my swollen clitoris, and feel the insistent tug of another orgasm start to form. This time it’s unhurried, creeping up on me until I am whimpering with joy. Slowly, languorously, I slide over the edge of release, tumbling back down to the soft, comfortable place that is Nathan’s gentle voice.

“Is that good, sweetheart? Do you like this?”

“Ah, yes. It’s so, so…wonderful. I don’t ever want to stop.” I’m sliding my fingers over my clit, rolling and pressing the swollen nub, savouring the sweet tingle of sensual response as I soar towards another soul-deep climax. I moan, arch my body as the sensations overwhelm me again before gently dropping me back into Nathan’s care. His voice is still there, seductive, sweet, low and husky, like smoke curling around the edges of my consciousness. He encourages me to explore some more, reminding me that my nipples love to be squeezed and pinched too. I don’t know how long I lie there, my body wide open, there to be touched, taken. The gentle hum of the vibrator continues to pulse sensual tremors through my body, and I’m using my fingers to work my clit and my nipples to send me soaring again. And again.

I have no idea how many times I come, before I finally beg him to let me stop. I am bone weary, incredibly happy and totally relaxed. I need to rest, I need to sleep.

“Okay, sweetheart. I think you’ll do. For now.” Pulling on the little ring I slide the vibrator out and lay it beside me on the bed, my legs stretched out, my arms flung above my head on the pillow. God, I feel so bloody good. That was absolutely mind-blowing. How did he know? How the hell did he know? My gratitude is pitiful.

“Nathan?”

“Yes, I’m still here.”

“I just wanted to say thank you. For making me do that.”

“You’re welcome, love.”

“No, I mean it. Really, thanks. You made me do it. I would never have done that, tried that, but you forced me to. Thanks.”

“No force, love. You did what you wanted to do, deep down. I just made you face your desires, give in to them.” He hesitates a moment, then, “Are you tired, Eva?”

“Yes, very.”

“Will you do something for me, before you go to sleep?”

I sit up. “Yes, anything.”

“Is your violin there? Would you play to me?”

“My violin? You want to listen to me play?”

“Yes. I do. And just so’s you know the score here, I have my dick in my hand, and I want to listen to you play while I work myself over. Will you do that for me, Eva?”

“God, yes!” I jump off the bed, forgetting how tired I am, how sore. I so want to please him, do something, anything, to return the favour.

As I pull the violin case from the bottom of my wardrobe and open it on the bed, impulsively I make him a promise. “Next time we get a chance I’m going to kneel at your feet, and suck your cock until you come.”

“Sounds good, Eva. And would you do it with your nipples clamped, really tight, hurting? I’d particularly like to see you like that.”

“Yes. However you want me to do it. Anything.”

“Anything, Eva. Oh, baby, you have no idea what I could dream up for you. Well, perhaps you do…”

“What would you like me to play?” I am kneeling in the middle of my bed, the violin tucked under my chin, waiting for instructions.

“I think
Bolero
would be about right.”

Of course, what else?

I angle the phone to better capture the sound, mindful of Rosie fast asleep down the landing. I really don’t want to waken her and have to explain why I’m playing her favourite piece of music, naked, at one o’clock in the morning, kneeling on my bed surrounded by the paraphernalia of really good, really kinky phone sex. Keeping the volume soft and low, I start to play.

Even though he is silent I am acutely conscious of Nathan’s presence—that he’s listening to me, and getting off to the sound of my music. Perhaps incongruously, given the circumstances, that first evening is vivid in my mind. I am again in the unfamiliar kitchen, playing to strangers whom I so desperately want to impress. Playing for acceptance, for permission to stay. I feel Nathan’s direct, dark gaze on me as it was that night, I see his tenderness towards his little daughter. And as the melody builds to its crescendo then falls away I see that same tenderness in his eyes as he looks at me…

His voice is soft, dark velvet caressing my ear. “That was beautiful, Eva. Thank you. Goodnight.”

The empty click tells me he’s gone. And I whisper my goodnight into the silence.

Chapter Three

“What do you mean you’ll go into a nursing home? What’s wrong with the home you’ve got?”

“It’s not my home, it’s where I work. I’m not family. I can’t expect you and Mr Darke to wait on me.”

I’m perched in one of those high-backed plastic hospital armchairs at the side of Grace’s bed. Rosie wanted to go to some storytelling and mask-making thing down at Keighley Library—apparently they run these gigs every week during the school holidays and she likes to go. So, feeling distinctly shattered after only about four hours’ sleep—my nightly telephone conversations with Nathan have become a habit we both seem to love but it’s definitely taking its toll—I dropped her off there and nipped along the road to pop in on Grace. And I’m getting to listen to this rubbish for my trouble.

“Not family, you could have fooled me! How come Rosie calls you ‘Nana’ then?”

“She doesn’t. Well, not that often. I don’t encourage her…”

“Yes she does. A lot. And that’s because she thinks you’re her grandma. Or something close. She thinks the world of you. Everyone does. We all want you home, at Black Combe, as soon as they say you can leave here. Not at some care home place.”

“I’m sure those places are really nice and I’ll be perfectly fine…”

“I’m sure they are too, but you don’t need one. You’re not to even think about going anywhere else but Black Combe. I want you home. Rosie does too. And if he was here Nathan would be saying the same.”

“But I’ll need to stay in bed for at least two weeks. I’ll need nursing, help with things like, like…”

“Things like getting dressed, washing, bathing, getting out of bed, going to the loo?”

“Well, yes.”

“Yes. And?”

“And—who’s going to do all that? I can’t see a little thing like you helping me out of bed and carrying me to the toilet, and I couldn’t expect you to. And there’s no way Mr Darke’s getting to see me on the loo! So… Who
will
look after me? Who’ll look after you, for that matter, while I’m lolling in bed for weeks. You’re a lovely girl but you’d burn the house down if you tried to cook anything.”

“I admit the Aga’s an art form somewhat beyond me still, but I can use a microwave and I’ve used Nathan’s credit card to buy a halogen oven that does jacket spuds so we’re doing fine. That nice Mrs Appleyard from the village is doing the cleaning, and a bit of cooking—she’s loving the extra cash—and we’re blowing the rest of Nathan’s credit card money on eating at Nando’s and KFC. So it’s all good. And when you come home we’ll start buying in pizza so you won’t starve either. Nathan can do proper cooking without the fire brigade needing to be put on alert, so when he finally manages to get back he can take charge of the food thing.”

I’m not sure if the stunned expression staring back at me is generated by horror or awe, but I err on the side of caution and try to reassure her. “It’s not up to your standards, but we’re getting by. And you can dump the halogen oven if you don’t like it, when you’re better.”

“I— Well, we’ll see. And I’d been thinking about getting one of those halogen things myself, actually. But that’s just it, though. That’s what I’m saying. About Mr Darke doing the cooking. He’s my employer—I work for him. I can’t expect him to cook for me, wait on me, pay my wages when I’m laid up in bed. It’s best I just take a few weeks’ unpaid leave and go to a nursing home like I said. I’ve got a few quid put by so even if it costs I can afford it.” Despite the brave words I can see how distressed and nervous Grace really is. And how very insecure, although I have absolutely no idea why.

Now, just a few days after her hip surgery, she’s doing really well. So well, in fact, that there’s talk of her leaving hospital in another day or two so we do need to decide how to look after her till she’s properly up and about again. It never occurred to me that there was any other possibility but that she’d come home to Black Combe. Rosie neither. She’s dying to show off her latest violin pieces. I haven’t asked Nathan what he thinks, even though he’s been on the phone every day for an update, as well as every night for steamy phone-fucking, because I never thought there was any question of Grace not coming home. It seems there is, though, and it needs scotching. Now.

“Look, we’ll talk to the doctors here, find out what sort of help you’ll need. If they say you need a specialist place, well, fine. But if they agree you can be looked after at home, then you’re coming home.” She’s obviously going to argue the point, I can tell by the firm set of her mouth and the way she’s wriggling upright in the bed, spoiling for a fight. I rush on, not letting her get a word in.

“And anyway, if there’s any paying to be done, Nathan will do it. After all, you got hurt at work. He’s lucky you don’t sue him for having a dangerous duvet.”

“Now you’re being ridiculous. I’m just saying…”

“Me ridiculous? I’m not the one with a busted hip because I lost a fight with a duvet cover. What I’m saying is that if we need to hire a nurse to help out we will. Nathan will. Like he did for Louisa.”

Grace’s astonished expression silences me. Have I spoken out of turn? I mumble, “Well, it’s true, he did. And he’d do the same for you.”

Her own predicament forgotten, Grace is on it in an instant. “How do you know about Louisa?”

I square my shoulders, look her in the eye. “Nathan told me. About her illness, and about how he came to adopt Rosie.”

Her expression is thoughtful, her head cocked to one side as she considers me carefully. Then, “He told you about that? All of it? About Louisa, and how Rosie came to live with us?”

“Yes, he did.” I hold her gaze, waiting for her reaction. And hoping. Somehow, it matters to me what Grace thinks.

She gazes at me, silent, thinking. Then, “He never talks about that time. Not to anyone. If he told you, you two must be very close.”

“We are. Sort of…”

“I thought…maybe, but I wasn’t sure… Are you sleeping with him? I expect you did when you were in Leeds, especially with you staying longer, over the weekend. But are you still? Now you’re home?”

I’m not at all sure either Nathan or I am accountable to Grace for this, but I like her, I respect her, and her approval matters to me. And I suspect it matters to Nathan too, so I try to explain his position, as best I understand it. “He’s concerned about Rosie. He doesn’t want to upset her, make her feel threatened or insecure.”

Grace nods. “Yes, he’s always put Rosie first. He’s a good father. But I think she’ll be fine with it. With you.”

“Really? I was hoping, you know, that we’d get on okay…”

“And you do. Rosie’s besotted with you. And if Mr Darke is too, well, I’m glad. It’s time he took up with a nice girl and stopped messing around with all those, those…other women.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘besotted’ exactly. But he’s been very kind, and…” Suddenly the significance of her words hits me.
Other women? Christ, she knows.

Mortified with embarrassment I can feel the hot flush creeping up over my face. My cheeks are burning and I can’t look at her. Christ! As if reading my mind, Grace reaches out and pats my hand. “Don’t worry, love. I know what he’s like, all his fun and games. Live and let live, I say. He’s a nice man, a good employer, and a brilliant father. That’s all that matters to me. But I was his housekeeper in Leeds before we got Rosie and moved here. I lived in the apartment below his. I know who came and went. And I know who I made breakfast for…” She stops suddenly, her expression worried. “Oh, am I speaking out of turn? I don’t mean to upset you or anything. I just thought you’d know…”

I nod, my voice barely a whisper. “I do know, but he promised me…”

“Right, well, that’s okay then. If he promised, he’ll keep his word. He’s like that. A good thing too, and about time he saw some sense. Not that it’s any of my business, obviously, but… Hardly ever the same woman twice. And I know how many beds I had to change. They always slept in the spare room. Did you sleep in the spare room, Eva?”

“No.” My voice is small, I still can’t look at her but I can feel her intense gaze on me. My face is a vivid shade of scarlet and my palms are sweating. She pats my hand again, approving.

“Good. That shows you’re different. I could tell he liked you, even from that first night when you arrived in all that rain. Something in the way he looked at you, never took his eyes off you. He was so angry about his car. I’ve never seen him that mad. But his fascination with you was so obvious. I know he likes women, lots of women, but I’ve never seen him look at anyone like he was looking at you that night. I’d have laughed out loud but he was in such a foul mood I think he’d have sacked the pair of us. I could see it, though, and I knew he wanted you. I wasn’t surprised when he asked you to go to Leeds with him.” She hesitates a moment, then, “Did he hurt you?”

“Hurt me? I… You know about…?”

“Like I said, I’m his housekeeper. I’m good at my job and I know what goes on in the house I look after. I know all about Mr Darke’s…habits. The games he likes to play.”

I do look up at her now, feeling oddly let down, betrayed, thrown to the wolves. Well, wolf.

“But, you left us alone in the kitchen that day.”